Watch How We Walk (14 page)

— I know someone who saw him somewhere he shouldn't have been.

She dances back and forth across the room. Emily says nothing and doesn't move. If she doesn't know, then none of it can be true.

Finally, Lenora sits back down beside her.

— All right, I'll tell you.

— Tell me what?

— Why Uncle Tyler's going to get in big trouble.

— He's not! He's going to cut his hair, he promised.

— I already told you, it's not about his hair. That's just an excuse.

— It is not! Stop it!

Lenora stands up again, looking down at Emily, who still sits on her hands. She tries hard not to move. If she stays as still as she can, everything will stay the same, and no one will get in trouble. Not Uncle Tyler, not Lenora, not her. Nothing will change. She closes her eyes.

— He was seen in a nightclub. Drunk. In Buffalo.

Emily opens her eyes.

— He was not! You're making it up!

— I'm not. I swear to God. Think I should tell the elders? Lenora smirks.

Emily runs to the bedroom door and looks into the hallway before closing it tightly.

— Be quiet! What if they hear you?

— I have another secret.

— So what?

— Don't you want to hear it?

— No.

— This is a good one, Ems.

— No. Just shut up! I don't want to know anything else.

— I'm in love.

Emily makes a gagging noise and pretends to throw up in a pillow.

— With who? With Theo?

— None of your business. But it's the real thing. And someday we're going to get out of this town. Escape. Together.

Emily's never heard her sister talk like this before and it frightens her. Where is she going to escape to? Without noticing, she plucks out a few more eyelashes.

Lenora pauses when they hear footsteps on the stairs, and then leans in toward Emily's face. Emily closes her eyes again and wishes she could go temporarily deaf, so she doesn't have to hear any more secrets.

— Listen to me.

— No.

Emily lunges toward the door but Lenora grabs her arm and pulls her toward her face.

— Do you know what ‘in drag' means?

There is a loud knock at the door and they both jump.

— Girls! Your mom says you have five minutes before we have to leave.

Emily and Lenora look at each other. Lenora responds in a silly high voice.

— Okay, we'll be right there, Uncle Tyler!

22

AGNES THE PENTECOSTAL IS COMING
over. Emily didn't tell her parents that Agnes is a Pentecostal, but that's not the same as lying, not exactly. She can't tell her parents every little thing that happens to her or every thought that comes into her head. Besides, Agnes isn't like other worldly kids; she doesn't swear or cheat on tests or steal candy from the corner store. She just reads and talks about Sunday school and mystery books. They've done lots of shifts together at the library and she is the closest thing to a worldly friend that Emily has — or any kind of friend, for that matter. She told her parents that she's been Witnessing to Agnes at school, that she might want to come to a meeting with her someday, and they agreed to let her come over to play. It was sort of true, since Agnes has been asking her questions about Jehovah's Witnesses, like why don't they celebrate Christmas or birthdays, and whether or not Emily has to knock on doors and preach to strangers. She answers as best she can, then changes the subject to Trixie Belden mystery books, which they both read, or how Mr. MacKay the librarian smells.

Emily checks that her shirt is tucked in, that her hair is combed, and then picks at one of the scabs on her index finger. Agnes has never seen her bedroom or met her parents before. She hopes that she doesn't find them weird and tell everyone at school that they're freaks, just because they pray before they eat and don't have a Christmas tree. Emily reassures herself that they can't be any stranger than the Pentecostals. It's the first time Emily's parents have ever allowed her to have a worldly friend over, other than the next-door neighbour kids, the Pattons, who used to just come over whenever they felt like it, because their mom worked all the time and their dad had run off.

Her mom is making homemade macaroni and cheese for them for dinner and Emily hopes that Agnes likes it. Emily walks back and forth from the kitchen to the living room, where her father sits on the couch in jeans and a plaid shirt, reading the latest issue of the
Watchtower
that was in yesterday's mail. She stops to look out the window and see if Agnes is there yet. Her mom is dropping her off at 4:00 and will pick her up at 7:30.

— Stop pacing, Emily. You're making me nervous. Her mom grates cheese on top of the casserole and slides it into the oven.

— She'll get here when she gets here.

— I know. Where's Lenora? Emily hopes her sister doesn't say anything strange or mean to Agnes. Hopefully she'll have a lot of homework to do and will leave them alone.

— In her room, as usual. Being anti-social.

Emily isn't sure what she should do with Agnes when she finally arrives — will she want to play a game, like checkers or Snakes and Ladders, or will she prefer to dress up her dolls in different outfits, or maybe go outside and swing on the tire swing? What if she thinks Emily's toys and games are boring? What if she doesn't have fun and never comes back? What if Emily never has a proper best friend? Gravel crunches in the driveway and she watches a grey sedan pull up to the house. Agnes climbs out of the car and blows her mom a kiss goodbye. Her mom honks the horn and waves. Agnes is wearing a white blouse tucked into a green and orange tartan skirt with white tights. She looks like she could be on her way to the Kingdom Hall. Emily thinks it would be nice to have a friend her own age there to sit with during the meetings sometimes, instead of just her family. She jumps when the doorbell rings, and stands there, then looks at her mother.

— Well, answer the door, Emily! Her mom sounds exasperated.

Agnes stands on the porch and pushes her glasses up her nose. She smiles and adjusts her backpack.

— Hi.

— Hi Emily. Agnes stands on her tiptoes and looks past her and into the house. Emily wavers in the doorway.

— Aren't you going to ask me in?

Emily reddens and stammers.

— Of course . . . come on in.

Agnes takes off her boots and sets her bag down. She clasps her arms together.

— Thank you for having me over.

— You're welcome.

— Hi Mr. Morrow.

Emily's dad smiles and waves from the couch then looks back down at the magazine on his lap.

— My mom says I should thank your mom too.

— Okay.

Emily hopes her mom doesn't say or do anything embarrassing. Agnes follows close behind her into the kitchen.

— Mom, this is Agnes.

Emily's mom sets her mug down next to the stove and shakes Agnes the Pentecostal's hand up and down, hard, for far too long.

— Hi Agnes! Welcome to our happy home! How are you on this fine day?

Emily cringes.

— Mom . . .

— Fine thank you, Mrs. Morrow. Thank you for having me over.

— Oh, you're most welcome.

— Do you need any help with dinner?

— No, no, you kids go play. We're going to eat in about an hour.

Emily gives Agnes a quick tour of their house and then they go to her bedroom. Agnes perches right at the edge of the bed, as though sitting farther back toward the pillows would be unsavoury. She folds her hands in her lap. Emily isn't sure what she is supposed to do next, and Agnes is quieter than she is at school.

— Do you want to play checkers?

— Okay.

Emily sets out the board and arranges the pieces. They click and clack like her father's knuckles when he cracks them. Agnes moves her red piece forward. Emily considers her first move and slides a black disc forward. Agnes hops her red piece over it and captures Emily's black one. Emily frowns. Agnes leans forward over the checkerboard.

— Can I ask you a question?

— I don't know. I guess so.

— What happened to your father's hand?

Emily didn't think Agnes had noticed his missing fingers, something Emily is so accustomed to that she doesn't even think about it.

Emily doesn't answer right away. She waits a few moments, twisting her hair around her finger and counting the tiles on the board. Sixty-four. She takes her turn and then Agnes takes hers and quickly snatches up two more of her pieces.

— He was in an accident. When he was little. Emily doesn't look up.

— What kind of accident?

Emily isn't very good at the strategy necessary to win at checkers. She keeps unintentionally setting herself up for Agnes to take two of her pieces every turn. Each move she makes leaves exposed vulnerabilities she didn't even know she had.

— Just an accident. In a thunderstorm.

— What happened? Did his hand get mangled in a machine? And they had to amputate to free him?

— I don't know.

— Really? You don't know? Why not?

Agnes takes her turn and overthrows another black piece.

— He doesn't like to talk about it.

— Was it a car accident? Was anyone else hurt?

That's the part they're not allowed to talk about. Years ago, when Lenora was younger, she asked a lot of questions too. Her father clenched the side of the kitchen table so hard you could see the bones in his good hand almost tearing through his skin. He told Lenora
Never mind
, to stop asking so many questions, and she persisted,
But why, what happened?
until finally he picked up his half-full dinner plate and threw it against the far wall. Emily was very small, but she still remembers the spaghetti inching down the yellow floral wallpaper below the clock, like earthworms on the sidewalk after a storm. He didn't speak to any of them for a week after that, and their mom has since made sure they know it's one of the things they're not allowed to talk about.

Emily doesn't look up at Agnes. She doesn't want to have to lie outright, so she shrugs instead and finally takes one of Agnes' red pieces. Emily is relieved when her mom calls them down for dinner.

They sit down at the table and her father is in his chair and Emily's mom sets the casserole and salad on the table before taking her seat. Lenora's chair is empty. Music drifts from upstairs, but no one tells Lenora to turn it off.

— Bow your heads.

Emily's father prays. She sneaks a look at Agnes. Her eyes are scrunched up tight and she clasps her hands in front of her. She hopes that their prayer doesn't seem too strange compared to what Agnes is used to. She doesn't know how the Pentecostals pray, if it's always the same set of memorized lines like the prayer at school, or if they make it up from scratch every time, so it's genuine.

— Our Lord and God in heaven, we thank you for this meal and all that we have . . .

Emily tries to focus but keeps peeking out her left eye to see if Lenora is waiting in the doorway or has somehow appeared in her chair. She doesn't want her parents to yell at her in front of Agnes. Her stomach is so tight she doesn't know if she'll even be able to eat.

— Give us the strength to always keep faith in you even when persecuted, that we might please you and live forever and see our loved ones again after the Resurrection.

He pauses for a minute and Emily isn't sure if he's lost his train of thought or what.

— Please forgive all of our sins, as we are imperfect and make many mistakes we don't mean to.

He clears his throat and continues.

— Please continue to bless us in our weakness and forgive us, in Jesus' name, Amen.

— Amen. Emily and her mom murmur in unison.

— Amen! Agnes chirps so loud her father starts.

Emily exhales loudly.

Her mom serves them the macaroni and cheese with a big wooden spoon, and Emily can tell that her smile is fake. She is only being nice because they have company. She must be mad at Lenora again. She sits down and rearranges her cutlery several times while the rest of them begin to eat.

Emily's dad swallows a couple of mouthfuls, then clears his throat and sets his fork down. None of them are used to having unfamiliar people over.

— So, what did you two get up to today?

— We played checkers, Mr. Morrow. I won every game, didn't I, Emily?

— Yeah—

— Don't talk with your mouth full, Emily!

— Sorry. Emily apologizes to her mom but wishes she hadn't snapped at her in front of Agnes. She stares at her food and moves it around on her plate while her father asks Agnes polite questions about school. Emily and her mom eat in silence.

When they are nearly done, Lenora bursts into the room like a hurricane, her long black and red plaid shirt billowing around her. She plops several spoonfuls of macaroni and cheese onto her plate and doesn't seem to notice a couple of sticky noodles drop to the floor. Then she shakes a bottle of Tabasco sauce over it all, so it's speckled with red. The chair rattles as she drags it across the floor and she sinks down heavily.

— Your macaroni and cheese is really good, Mrs. Morrow. I've never had it homemade like this before.

Lenora seems to notice Agnes for the first time.

— Who on earth are you?

— Thank you, Agnes. I can give you the recipe to take home if you like.

— Um, this is my friend Agnes. From school.

It's embarrassing that Lenora even asked, and Emily coughs, then kicks her sister under the table.

— Ouch! What'd you kick me for?

— Nothing.

Lenora turns to Agnes, swallows her food, and grins.

— So, are you worldly?

— Lenora . . . Their mom is using her warning voice.

— It's a valid question. I mean, ‘bad association' and all that. Right?

Emily doesn't look up, just keeps moving her food around, her head close to her plate. Agnes turns to Lenora.

— I don't really understand the question. What do you mean?

— I mean, are you going to start coming to the Kingdom Hall with us? Or is Emily wasting her time?

— Shut up! Emily turns bright red and can't look at anyone.

Agnes looks from Lenora to Emily, then back at Lenora.

— What do you mean?

— What do I mean? Emily isn't allowed to hang around with worldly kids. Unless she's converting them. Right, Dad? Isn't that how it is?

— Lenora.

He looks at her with that sharp, long look that means
you're in trouble
, but Lenora ignores him.

— I know you're Jehovah's Witnesses and stuff, but I have my own religion.

— Well, that's good to hear that you read the Bible. Their dad tries to take the conversation away from Lenora.

— What religion do you belong to?

— I'm a Pentecostal. Agnes smiles and crunches her lettuce.

Their parents exchange a look between them and Lenora laughs.

— Wow. Hard-core. That's like the thrash metal of Christianity!

Emily doesn't know exactly what that means, but knows enough to recognize that her sister is making fun of Agnes.

— Shut up, Lenora!

Agnes, however, openly ignores Lenora, which impresses Emily.

— Can I ask you a question, Mr. Morrow?

— Sure, Agnes. What is it?